Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn't exactly a conscious choice, but as the week's go by and it becomes clearer and clearer that Pete and Tom probably aren't going anywhere, Mav & Ice find themselves beginning to step into the roles that their younger selves had been sorely lacking at this point in their lives. 

For Pete, it’s Ice looking out for and standing up for him (when certain senior officers take the chance to act out old grudges with Mav and/or Duke on a seemingly easy target). Essentially someone who genuinely cares about his well being and won’t stand by when he’s being treated unfairly.

For Tom, it’s Mav valuing his opinion on matters and actually inviting him to share them rather than blowing him off or exploding at him for being “disrespectful”. It’s Mav seriously taking into account his thoughts instead of making him feel stupid for having them.

Once it becomes clear that lil!Pete and Tom are here to stay, the daggers are finally given the go-ahead to bond with their new baby brothers. It’s later (almost) universally agreed that Bob should have gone with Rooster and Phoenix instead of Jake as the initial team representatives. 

Tom and Pete’s room is a bit of a clash of philosophies/backgrounds/trauma-responses. 

Tom’s Father was always very dogmatic about his maintaining his room to military standards. Hospital corners on the bed, a place for everything and everything in its place, no useless trinkets, enforced with full room inspections at least once a week. He’s not quite shaken that habit living with Ice, Mav, and Pete. 

Pete, on the other hand, is used to having only what he can fit into a bag. So having come out of this he’s going through a bit of a pack rat phase where he will bring home anything that catches his eyes because he can now. 

Mav went through the same phase during college so he’s sympathetic but trying to coach Pete so it doesn’t get quite as bad as it did with him. Ice is sympathetic to Tom as well, but remembers from his own experience that this is something he’s going to have to break from a bit so he’s not a constant ball of anxiety about orderliness. Forced exposure eventually worked for him, and fortunately Pete’s just as stubborn as Slider was back in the day. 

You know those parents whose children were a handful back in the day, and then those kids have kids who turn out to be exactly the same. Yeah, that’s Slider right now. 

He’s enjoying getting to be the fun uncle all over again, and chipping in on Ice and Mav’s mission of giving Tom and Pete better upbringings, but there’s also a very healthy dose of enjoying the suffering of these two idiots who he was stuck dealing with, on his own, in the middle of an ocean for the better part of the 90s. 

Pete and Tom would very much like to get up in the sky sooner rather than later and, considering Mav owns an air-strip/hanger, all they need is the training (and licence, because Ice put his foot down) and that might just be achievable. In order to do this, they managed to snag a couple of jobs at the coffee shop Penny recently bought and are being very diligent little savers. 

Naturally, upon hearing this, the daggers decide to make it part of all their morning routines to drop in and say hi to the little bros. 

At the five minute mark Mav and Pete had gone to order the table drinks, but promptly got distracted on the way by the ping-ball machine that had been pushed into the back corner of the shop (a shiny ball, flashing lights, and the prospect of a pointless competition - the poor little morons never stood a chance). They were now vying, loudly, for the top score instead.

Rolling his eyes at the Mitchell show, Ron turned back to the only person who had the decency to stick around. But where Tom had been idly reading through the menu when he’d looked away, the kid now looked all the world like he was trying to work up the nerve to do something, or say something. 

Arching a brow, Ron nudged the boy's shoulder, grimacing apologetically at the flinch it earned. 

“You alright there, Buddy? " he asked, as gently as he could manage. 

Tom shot a fleeting glance his way before turning back to the menu once again, humming and nodding stiffly in response.

Others may have pushed the subject, but Ron had been handling Icicles for a good long while now, and knew that the best thing for situations such as these was to give it time. Rushing it only led to walls going up or conversations stalling because Tom wasn’t completely ready to say what he needed to say but felt pressured to say something regardless. Neither were productive ways to spend one’s night.

So picking up his phone and tapping through to his newsfeed, that’s precisely what Ron did. He’d managed to get most of the way through the major headlines when Tom started fidgeting in his peripheral. 

“Uncle Sli?”

Giving himself a quick mental pat on the back, Ron put down his phone and turned his attention back to Tom, who was looking over at him with an expression that he hadn’t seen in decades. That was to say the Tom Kazansky special blend of being intensely anxious while desperately trying to mask it behind cool indifference. Not necessarily a unique combination but one Ron could pick out of a line-up any day of the week.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he replied. 

Tom faltered for a moment, before clearing his throat and drawing a deep, steadying breath. 

“This is going to sound stupid,” he said, eyes fixed down on the menu in front of him but pushing through with all his might. “All things considered, it’s probably blatantly obvious. Doesn’t need saying. And… maybe… I don’t know… it’s just….

“I know it’s silly, and that it’s not a big deal anymore really, and everyone who properly matters here is already fine with it. I just… I’ve never actually told anyone and I feel… I sort of just want…”

“Want what?” Ron gently prompted.

Dragging in a deep, shuddering breath Tom turned to face Ron properly for the first time that evening. 

“I’m gay,” he uttered, fingers clenching at his arms so hard the nails had started to go white with the pressure. “I-I’ve known for a while, but I’ve never actually… said it. Or told anyone.”

Ron blinked.

Well, that wasn’t what he had been expecting. But in retrospect it really really should have been. He’d had this conversation before after all. Not quite word for word, obviously, but the open mix of fear of a poor reaction and quiet hope of acceptance battling for dominance on Tom’s face made it feel pretty damn identical all the same. 

Smiling warmly, Ron wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders and tugged him closer, just like he had his little brother all those years ago. 

“That’s still a big thing, Buddy. Definitely not stupid at all,” he said, smiling a little wider as he felt Tom lean properly against him. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“S’alright.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

“...Thank you,” Tom whispered, so quietly Ron almost didn’t catch it. These damn kids really were out to break his heart it seemed. 

Sighing deeply, he pressed a firm kiss to the top of the boy’s head and held him tight until the moment was broken by a loud, indignant squawk from behind them. 

“You’re a damn cheat!” Pete cried from the pinball machine. 

“You are a sore loser,” Maverick jeered back.

Slider rolled his eyes and muttered, “Those idiots are going to get us kicked out before we even order.”

Tom laughed quietly and nodded, before pulling away from the hug and getting to his feet. 

“Back in a sec,” he said, before strolling over to, presumably, pull the Mitchell’s back into line. 

Ron arched his brow when Ice dropped back down at the table not a moment later, like he’d been waiting to do so. He was off his phone too, miracle of miracles. 

“Everything good in the Pentagon?” Ron drawled, leaning back in his seat. 

“You know I can’t comment on that,” Ice replied, taking a sip of his water as he stowed his phone away. 

Ron rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Yes yes, you’re a very powerful and important man.”

“That goes without saying,” the smug little shit retorted, smirking - before shooting him a knowing look. “You’re 2 for 2 now, huh?” 

Slider blinked innocently, leaning back a little further in his seat. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Ice,” he replied smoothly, because even in this very peculiar situation it wasn’t really his news to be spreading about, was it? 

Ice’s smirk gentled into something a little warmer as he nodded his understanding, before reaching over and nudging Ron’s arm gently. “Thanks for being there for him too, Sli.”

Ron smiled, ducking his head as he nudged him back. 

“Any time, little brother.”

Once again came up with a scenario at work and have been mulling over it all day. I also wanted to practice drawing Rooster 😅

Bradley scares the crap out of Pete. 

He knows that he’s pretty much Mav’s son, that they had this big thing a few years back that neither of them really want to talk properly about, and he knows that Mav would do pretty much anything for him. 

The disaster scenario that keeps spinning about in his mind is that he’ll somehow screw up (like he had in countless foster placements), make Bradley hate him - and it would lead to either Bradley dealing out a ‘him or me’ ultimatum, or, if he really messes up, making him hate Mav again. Either option would result in Pete having to leave, which he really really doesn’t want to.

(Or to put it another way, shake this kid and abandonment issues/trauma will fall out).

But in typical Mitchell ‘don’t think, just do’ fashion - he decides that the best way forward is to spend more time with Bradley and try to figure out where all the lines are before he accidentally crosses any. Getting him to teach him how to play piano seemed safe, until he realised how much Bradley loves playing piano. Now he’s terrified of looking like he’s not taking it seriously enough. 

Meanwhile Bradley’s just enjoying spending some one-on-one time with his new little brother. If only he could get the kid to relax a little.

By the time 12 o’clock rolled by, it finally got to be too much. He needed a break. He decided to go out. 

Best case scenario, he’d get some fresh air, give his mind something other than the horror to focus on. Maybe he’d pick himself up some lunch, perhaps from the little deli he liked. He could eat it by the beach too, rather than over his desk like usual. 

Worst case scenario, well at least he’d be in his car already. 

The phone hadn’t rung when he reached the deli. Nor had it by the time he’d ordered and received his sandwich. As he made his way back to his car, the thought occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t doing as incredible a job keeping his mind occupied as he had originally hoped when conceiving the whole lunch-time notion. 

It wouldn’t have mattered one way or the other, as it turned out, because just as Beau dropped back into the driver’s seat, lunch in hand, something (or rather, someone) caught his eye from the other side of the street. 

Man makes plans. God laughs.

Twisting in his seat he tracked a suspiciously familiar looking kid as he limped his way up the street before finally coming to a stop at the traffic lights. Sure enough, when the boy turned to cross, he was met with the profile of Pete Mitchell. Mitchell Jr? PJ? Who knew how that lot were navigating that one - certainly not Beau. And he didn’t care either. 

What he did care about, unfortunately, was the fact that the kid appeared to have been thrashed six ways from sunday. And furthermore, perhaps even more worryingly, his blond shadow was nowhere to be seen. 

Beau sighed deeply, flopping back in his seat as the lights flashed green and the kid hobbled his way over to his side of the street. 

He knew Mitchell was going to ruin the day for him somehow. 

Tossing his lunch onto the passenger seat, he climbed back out of his car and made his way over to the boy, clearing his throat pointedly to announce his presence. Frankly, the hiss that he got in response struck him as a touch excessive. 

“Shhhh, shh, it’s alright,” Mitchell quickly hushed what Beau had previously thought to be his balled up jacket, but could now see was in fact the mangiest, sorriest looking cat he’d ever laid eyes on (balled up in the kid’s jacket). “Admiral Simpson, sir. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

Beau could only shut his eyes and pray for strength. 

Good lord, he’s always been this way.

“What are you up to?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked the kid over. He didn’t seem dizzy, was focusing fine, wasn’t wobbling on the spot.

“Nothing,” Mitchell insisted. “I was at work all morning. Tom can vouch for me!”

…Wasn’t behaving out of character. 

“Cover for you more like it.”

“There were cameras!” Mitchell snapped heatedly, though he quickly attempted to rein in his temper after earning a warning growl from the creature in his arms. “Look-”

Beau held up a hand, cutting the kid off before he could properly hit his stride. 

“I wasn’t actually going to accuse you of anything,” he said. “I’m trying to check on you. And now,” he arched a brow and nodded pointedly at the cat. “I’ve got even more questions.”

Mitchell eyed him sceptically for a long moment (so he was well enough to be stubborn, a good, if not frustrating sign), before finally looking away and shifting restlessly on the spot. 

“I found a cat. I’m taking her to the vet,” he eventually settled on. 

Beau hummed, giving the kid his most unimpressed look (which he’d been reliably informed, was quite something). 

“Expand.”

The kid grumbled, shooting him a frustrated glare, before (surprisingly) doing as he was told regardless. 

“Tom picked up another shift, so I was heading back home on my own. But on the way I noticed a group of kids messing about behind some shops. I was gonna leave it but then I heard this little lady crying and realised they were throwing bottles at her. So I fought them off-”

“Successfully?” Beau asked dubiously.

“Yes!” he huffed. “Then I noticed that she was hurt. I asked the people who worked in the shop but they said she was just a stray that likes to hang around and didn’t really care. So now I’m taking her to a vet as soon as I find one in this damn place.”

Beau blinked. 

On one hand, he was taken aback by the whole explanation. And yet, at the same time, he both believed it and felt that it tracked quite well with the Pete Mitchell he’d come to somewhat know. Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if the one he had to deal with day in day out wandered up to him, cat in hand, with the exact same story.

He really had always been like this it would seem. 

Shaking the thought off, he found the kid still griping grumpily about trying to track a vet down (by word of mouth alone by the sound of it). 

“He said there was one on Orange Avenue. But I went to the address and it’s a pizza shop. So either they were messing with me or-”

“Why don’t you use your phone?” Beau asked, cutting him off. 

“What number am I supposed to call?” Pete replied in a particularly peevish manner (though he did grudgingly tack on a muttered ‘Sir’ at the end, so… points for trying). “Besides, I broke it in the fight.”

Rolling his eyes, Beau took his phone from his pocket and, tilting the screen so the kid could see, and typed in ‘Vet’s near me’. 

“Looks like there’s one six blocks west from here,” he said.

“Holy crap,” Mitchell uttered, wide eyed. “That’s neat.”

“If you’re going to fly fighter jets you’re probably going to want to dedicate more time to getting up to date with basic tech,” Beau replied, grimacing at the thought of more Mitchell’s in the sky. The 13 he was contending with at present was more than enough. Still the navy had tried and failed to keep Maverick out of the skies once before, he held out little hope for the second time around. 

The kid either didn’t notice his distress or didn’t care, choosing to beam cheerfully up at him instead.

“Right, well, thanks,” he said, readjusting his hold on the cat and taking a limping step in the direction of the vet. “We’d better head off and get this one seen to then.”

“Kid, I think you need to get seen to,” Beau replied, resting his hands on his hips. 

Mitchell scoffed at that. 

“Me? I’m fine.”

“You got beat to hell.”

“Please, I’ve been beat waaaay worse than this,” the kid drawled, rolling his eyes. “This is nothing.”

Beau frowned at that, a heavy, uncomfortable weight settling in the pit of his stomach at what that could possibly mean. Who the hell had been whaling on this kid so much that this was a laughing matter for him?

“You should at least call Maverick, or Iceman,” he pressed. “I’m sure they can help, and they’d definitely want to know you’re hurt.”

“It’s honestly just a few bumps,” the boy insisted(/lied). “Besides, they’re both incommunicado today. Ice has back to back meetings until dinner and Mav’s got big plans for today while Cycl-”

The kid trailed off, clearly remembering who exactly he was talking to. 

Beau felt his brow beginning to twitch. The sense of impending doom reasserted itself in the forefront of his mind.

“...Whiiiiiile it’s still summer. Longer days, you know. More flying hours.”

He felt his brow twitch even harder.

“Any-way -  I’ll patch myself up at home as soon as my little buddy here’s all sorted out. It’ll be fine. Thanks for your help though! Enjoy your day off!” he carried on cheerfully, nodding a farewell before turning and hastily limping away.

Beau drew in a deep, calming breath as he watched the kid leave. 

He’d done his due diligence. The boy wasn’t concussed. He wasn’t acting oddly, and he was as stubborn and bull-headed as ever. He didn’t need to pursue this. It wasn’t his job to pursue this. He was supposed to be relaxing!!

…Goddamnit!

“Mitchell, wait,” he sighed heavily. “I’ll drive you.”

---

He was going to read. That had been his plan. He was going to sit on his sofa all day, and finally read the stupid little spy novel he’d picked up in the airport the last time he’d been forced to fly commercially (he still suspected his elder sister insisted on a destination wedding simply to torture him. Don’t worry Beau, we’ve already booked your flights. Why are you looking at me like that - are you above economy seating these days or something? And what’s wrong with the middle seat exactly? Honestly, you’re not that tall Bo-Bo-). 

Sitting in a far smaller than advertised veterinary clinic, being sniffed, licked, and for one horrifying moment, mounted by each dog that passed through the doors, was a far cry from what he’d hoped for. 

On one gratifying note (well maybe not gratifying, perhaps more vindicating), his suspicions were slowly starting to be proven accurate in the matter of Mitchell v Reality. Whether it was adrenaline or sheer force of will that had kept him going earlier, the longer they waited to be seen by the vet, the more the kid seemed to be feeling as sore and sorry as he looked. 

Even still, whenever Beau attempted to broach the subject of his getting seen to properly, the kid resisted. His concerns were consistently met with an ‘I’m fine’ or ‘It can wait’. 

It was honestly like trying to get blood out of a stone. 

Beau sighed when he spotted the kid shifting and cringing uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers clenching and unclenching at the fabric of his jacket, still wrapped around the injured black cat (who herself, was purring up a storm. Almost like she was trying to soothe the both of them). 

Enough was enough. 

Forgoing any further attempt to reason with the unreasonable, Beau got to his feet and walked over to the sunny old lady sitting behind the reception desk. 

“Excuse me,” he said, keeping his voice low in an effort to forgo the kid overhearing and further protesting his fine-ness. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple of ice packs that we could borrow, would you? The kid took a bit of a tumble trying to save his cat and is being stubborn about it.”

“I did wonder what the story was there, poor love,” the lady replied (just as quietly, thank god). “Give me a moment, I’ll just go check.” 

He smiled politely as she popped down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder at Mitchell, who didn’t appear to have even noticed that he’d gotten up yet, seeming to focus on how fine he was feeling instead. Beau felt even further vindicated for his concern. 

“Here we are, just the thing,” the little old nurse replied with a warm smile as she handed over two carefully wrapped ice packs.

“Thank you so much,” he replied, nodding to the lady as she ducked back down the hall with some files in hand, before making his way back over to their little corner of the waiting room, drawing the kid’s attention at last. 

“What-”

“I know you’re fine really,” Beau drawled, arching a brow as he pressed the packs into both the kids' hands. “Nevertheless, you should at least ice the worst of those ‘bumps’.” 

Mitchell stared down at the packs for a long moment, stubbornly not making any moves to use them. 

Beau sighed deeply, leaning forward and resting his arms over his knees and ducking his head to catch the kid’s eye. 

“Come on kid, just humour me,” he said. “The cat’s still getting seen to, isn’t she? And this way Iceman might not chew me out for not dragging you to a doctor like I really probably should have.” 

Pete grimaced an acknowledgment of that point, hesitated a moment longer, before finally starting to carefully shift the cat a little further off his lap so he had room to rest one of the packs over his belly. 

Beau smiled encouragingly(/triumphantly) and reached over to steady the bundled up pussycat on the boy’s knees as the kid rucked his shirt up to press the other to his ribs. 

Any sense of satisfaction from that small win was quickly chased from his mind the moment he did. The kid had definitely copped far worse of a beating than he seemed ready to admit too, but it wasn’t the bruising that sent Beau’s stomach sinking like a rock in a lake. No, it was the scars that littered the his torso. Long thin ones curling around his back and sides, small circular ones dotted over his belly and ribs in little clusters, each varying in stages of ageing. Each very tricky to explain away as the result of misadventure. 

Beau blinked when the shirt was yanked sharply back in place. He looked up and was met with a guarded glare. 

He honestly shouldn’t even be surprised. And yet, somehow, he was. 

Maybe he’d been caught up in the way Maverick, Ice, and the Daggers behaved around the kids - their unspoken warning that any harm that came to them would be met with swift and decisive action. Maybe it was just the air of Maverick-level fearlessness and confidence that the kid already exuded independently. Whatever it was, the very few times Beau’s mind pondered over just what sort of environment would shape either one of the Mitchell’s - he’d conjured images of a fond, overly indulgent grandmother. Someone ill-equipped to handle that particular tidal wave of mischief - leading to a kid that got away with doing whatever he pleased, and an adult who’d grown used to that. 

Taking in the defiant glower the kid was shooting in his direction with every fibre of his being - he now suspected the exact opposite. 

“Satisfied?” Mitchell huffed, jaw set stubbornly as he regathered the cat back onto his lap. 

Beau grimaced, unsure how to proceed. Should he broach the subject? Ignore it? Pretend he didn’t see anything at all? 

The kid huffed irritably beside him. 

“Look, if you’re going to be weird, just go,” he muttered, glaring down at the tops of his scraped knees rather than looking at Beau. “And if you’re going to be a dick-”

“How would I be a dick about something like that?” 

The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“So you were always a delinquent were you?’” he said, in what Beau could only assume was a parody of his own voice. “That’s what happens when you keep on pushing people, you know? If you just behaved and did as you were told for once in your life-”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Sure.”

Beau frowned as the kid fell silent, stewing away beside him, first angrily, then, slowly, more and more miserably. 

“Have people said that to you before?” he asked carefully.

Mitchell shrugged, keeping his silence. 

“People… here?” Beau asked, cocking his head to the side. 

The boy paused for a moment, before shaking his head. 

“People sort of assume, but the only ones who know about all of that are Mav, Ice, and Tom. Maybe Rooster too. But if he does, it’s cos he knows from Mav.”

He shrugged. 

“It’s different here, but… it’s hard to adjust sometimes,” he muttered. “And you already hate Mav.”

“I don’t hate Maverick,” Beau argued, and found that he wasn’t actually lying. “He… he’s a good person.”

Mitchell shot him a rather cynical look, though just as Beau’s concern had given him away earlier, the truth of that statement must have shown somehow on his face because the kid actually relaxed a little. 

“That looked like it hurt.”

Beau rolled his eyes. 

“Let’s be clear, he’s a pain in the ass,” he sniffed before he could stop himself. “And I don’t regret saying that because he revels in it. But I don’t hate him.”

The kid scoffed softly, dropping his gaze back down to the purring cat in his lap again, fingers coming up to play with her (no doubt filthy) fur.

“Yeah, Ice says so too,” he muttered. “The pain in the ass bit.”

“I’ll bet,” Beau drawled, before turning back to the kid. “Even if he does deliberately make my life more difficult - that wouldn’t justify anybody saying that to you.”

Mitchell grimaced. 

“Doesn’t matter if it’s justified or not. It still happens,” he muttered, eyes still fixed on that cat in his lap.

Beau frowned at that, before the pieces fell into place. The details had been released so long ago it was almost easy to forget that once upon a time the Mitchell legacy wasn’t infamous simply due to Maverick’s own antics.

“Your father?”

The kid shrugged. 

“Mostly,” he said. “Mom too sometimes, whenever I ended up stuck with bible-thumpers, because of how she…” he grimaced and shook his head. “They like to go on and on about how they’re both burning in hell, which you know, is loads of fun. Lots of ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ and ‘when I say jump you ask how high’s. Other times it was more the other kids realising they probably wouldn’t get in trouble for messing with me as long as they didn’t take things too far - but that was more in group homes though.”

Beau, for the life of him, couldn’t think of what to say. ‘Gee buddy, that's rough’ sounded almost insultingly glib. It wasn’t his first brush with topics like this, he wasn’t that naive. He’d had friends who’d come from rough enough homes - but he wasn’t nearly close enough to the kid to offer the sort of support he’d tried to extend to them (or, indeed, for that support to be welcome at all). 

Even as he hummed and harred over what to do there, the more analytical side of his mind couldn’t help but acknowledge that these new details certainly lended a bit more insight into why Maverick was the way he was. What he’d taken for the result of overindulgence suddenly seemed a lot more in line with ‘well, if I’m going to get in trouble anyway’.

The boy glanced his way and pulled a face. 

“Don’t be weird,” he sighed, though it almost came off as a plea. “That was there, this is here. Here is different. It’s better. Mav doesn’t even have the scars anymore.” 

Beau frowned when the kid froze at that, his eyes widening with alarm. “Shit, please don’t be weird with him. Jeez I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. You’re his boss, and now you think he’s weak. He’s going to be so pissed. Fuck-”

Perversely, Beau felt slightly relieved as the kid started to spiral. This he could deal with. 

“Hey, stop,” he said, stooping slightly to make eye-contact with the kid again, “I’m not going to treat Maverick or you differently. I promise. I certainly don’t think either of you are weak.”

The kid swallowed thickly, looking at him like he was trying to decide whether he could be trusted or not. 

“Look,” Beau said, “I admit, like it or not, what you said explains some things. But only some things. Maverick still has 40 odd years of experiences and influences on you that have shaped the man he is today just as much as the ones you both share. This is just one layer of the onion, so don’t feel like you’ve exposed the guy.”

As he said it, the words rang true in his mind. He’d spent all day drawing parallels between the boy and the man, but all things considered - by this point, they were already different people. Strikingly similar people perhaps, but different all the same. The kid was experiencing an upbringing that Maverick never had - while Maverick had benefited from relationships that Pete would never have the chance to form. Both of those facts had set them down different paths already. 

With that thought in mind, Beau made a conscious decision to adjust his point of view in regards to the both of them.

“I’m also still just as responsible for whatever he does on my base as I was before we had this conversation. So don’t worry, I won’t be treating him any differently, alright? It could well be the end of us all if I did.” 

Pete smiled weakly at his stab at humour and nodded hesitantly in response. 

Beau nodded firmly back, before frowning.

“They are still your experiences too though. You’re allowed to talk about them,” he said.

“I don’t think everybody else would see all of this the same way you do,” Pete uttered. “They’re fantastic, really. The Daggers, the Flyboys, Tom. But they’ve all got an image of Mav, you know? I’d just… spoil it, if I talked about that stuff with them.”

Unfortunately, Beau couldn’t really fault the kid’s logic there. There was an emotional aspect at play with those specific individuals, certainly.

“How about Iceman?” he suggested. “Hell, what about Maverick?”

Pete sighed deeply. 

“When it comes up they try to help,” he said. “But, I don’t know, it’s still weird. Like I’m third-wheeling on something that’s personal to the two them, you know?”

He shook his head. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t even really think about it that much anymore. It doesn’t matter.”

Beau was starting to suspect that ‘it’s fine’ might actually be something of a tell with this kid. 

“How about you talk to me about it then,” he suggested. 

Pete blinked at that, a dubious expression spreading across his face. 

“...We just went over why that’s a bad idea.”

“Actually, we just went over how it makes little difference one way or the other,” Beau countered. “It’s your choice, but the offer’s there. My door’s open if you ever wanted to talk about that sort of stuff, or anything really.”

“Pretty sure this constitutes as you treating me different,” Pete muttered stubbornly. 

Beau rolled his eyes. 

“Kid, today has marked the first string of conversations I’ve had with you that didn’t consist of ‘stop doing that’ and ‘get down from there’. I started treating you differently the second you announced you got in a fight over a cat and decided to traipse all over town trying to find a vet for her.” 

Pete ducked his head at that, though Beau was heartened to spot the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Shaking his head he leaned back properly in his seat once again. 

“You’re a good kid,” he said simply. “And you’ve got a lot going on. If serving as a sounding-board will help you work through some of it, I’d be happy to fill that role.” He shrugged. “You never know, I may even steer you away from being an unapologetic pain in the ass.” 

Pete scoffed softly at that, before lifting his head and shooting Beau a small but genuine smile. 

“It might be a bit late in the day for that.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Beau drawled. 

A silence, a comfortable one this time, settled between the two of them. The lady with the randy jack russell finally walked out of one of the consulting rooms and went to settle her bill at the reception desk. Surely they had to be called in soon. 

Pete cleared his throat beside him, drawing Beau’s attention to him.

“...If you really want to help - Tom and I noticed that your linkedin says you were a flight instructor-”

“Absolutely not… See, things haven’t changed that much.”

---

The cat, as Pete suspected, had hurt its leg. Fortunately it was a matter of glass in her paw pad rather than a broken leg like they feared. So 2 hours, $300 dollars (Beau’s, after a long and arduous argument with Pete) and one slightly loopy cat later, Beau finally managed to get Pete back home. Or rather, he managed to get him about two blocks away from home, before they ran into yet another obstacle. 

Tom Kazansky (the younger) looked like he was on the verge of passing out as he staggered his way down the sidewalk. Beau found himself experiencing an intense sense of deja vu.

“What. the. Hell?” Pete uttered.

“Yep, pulling over,” Beau replied, driving just a little ahead of the kid before pulling to a stop. 

“Tom?! What happened?!” Pete cried as he clambered out and over to the kid with Beau on his heels. 

“You!”

“What the hell?!” the kid yelped, gaping as a very red faced, sweaty, and out of breath Tom lurched unsteadily over to them. 

“Where… the hell… have you been?” the boy panted, doubling over in an effort to catch his breath. 

“At the vet?” Pete replied, shooting Beau a bewildered glance before turning back to the other kid. “What’s going on? Why are you so out of breath? Why were you looking for me?”

“I’m…  so out of breath… because I’ve been… running across… across town, trying to find you!” Tom panted back, squeezing his eyes shut as he attempted to get his breathing under control. “Heard you were in trouble… then I couldn’t find you.”

Pete blinked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit!” Tom croaked. “Look at you!”

Beau arched a brow, smirking when Pete shot him a quick ‘say nothing’ glance. 

“There may have been a situation earlier,” he amended, rolling his eyes. “But I handled it and I’m fine.”

“Tell that to your face. And also the six assholes that came to the shop, bragging about beating the crap out of some pipsqueak by the burger joint.”

Beau was only a man. How couldn’t he snicker at that?

“You heard that and immediately assumed it was me?!”

“It was you!!”

“Boys.”

“For the record, I handed all six of those shits their asses, not the other way around. And frankly I’m insulted-”

“What were you doing fighting six people anyway?!”

“Booooys.”

“I’m going to find those dickheads and kick their asses again!” 

“Are you out of your mind?! Why didn’t you answer your phone?!”

“Why are you yelling at me?!”

“Because I thought you were hurt, you absolute-”

“ENOUGH!”

Whirling around and seeming to finally register his presence (for the first time in Kazansky’s case), both kids finally stopped arguing and fell silent.

“Look,” Beau said. “It’s getting late. Before your neighbours call the police or something else happens, let’s just get you both home. Then you’re more than welcome to bicker to your heart’s content. Alright?”

The kids exchanged a quick glance (an utterly befuddled one from Tom, and a rather amused one from Pete) before nodding. 

“Right, sorry Admiral Simpson,” Tom uttered, clearly at a complete loss as to why he was there in the first place but too polite to comment on it. 

“He helped me out with Saki,” Pete said shrugging, answering the unasked question anyway.

“Saki?” Tom echoed as they all climbed back in the car.

“Saki,” Pete cheerfully replied, lifting the cat back onto his lap and holding her up for Tom to see properly. 

“What the hell, Pete?” Tom uttered helplessly. “Where the hell did you get a cat? Why do you have a cat? And Saki? Seriously?”

“I found her getting harassed by dickheads, so I saved her,” Pete replied, counting the answer off on his fingers. “She was a stray, so she has nowhere else to go. And it’s short for Kawasaki. Cos listen to the engine on her!!”

Beau couldn’t help but shake his head sympathetically at the utterly bewildered look on Tom’s face. 

“And this is where you’ve been all afternoon?” he asked. 

“She had some glass in her paw, and my phone got broken in the fight - so I couldn’t call you,” Pete explained. “And I thought her leg was broken, so I didn’t want to wait to get her seen to. I didn’t mean to worry you like that.”

Tom stayed silent for a long moment, before sighing deeply, in the way only one who’d been privy to far too much Mitchell nonsense already could. Beau felt for the kid. 

“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Nice to know you care though,” Pete drawled, grinning teasingly. 

Tom rolled his eyes, before leaning over to flick the other kid between his own. 

“If anyone gets to kick your ass, it’s me,” he said. “I’ve earned it.”

“As. if. You. could.” 

Beau shook his head and pulled back out onto the road. It probably wasn’t the most conventional way to settle matters, but it seemed to work for these two.

When they eventually got back to the Kazansky-Mitchell residence, the Admiral’s car and Maverick’s motorbike were waiting for them in the drive. At last, the dice had rolled in Beau’s favour. He hadn’t been entirely comfortable with the prospect of leaving the kids on their own with Pete in the state he was (Tom as well for that matter) and in possession of a stray cat to boot. This way he got to head home sooner (also, the air-base must have survived if Maverick was back home relatively on schedule).  

“Come on you two,” he said, getting out of the car and holding the back door open as both kids scooted out, the cat, Saki, in tow. 

“You know,” Pete said, in a slyer manner than Beau was completely comfortable with, “Though I still think you’re being unnecessarily stubborn about me paying the money back for Saki-”

“The fact that you have the gall to call anybody unnecessarily stubborn astonishes me,” Beau drawled, the corner of his lip twitching when Tom hummed his empathetic agreement. 

Pete rolled his eyes. 

“As I was saying, seeing as you’re being difficult - I’ve come up with another way to pay you back for helping out today.”

“Mitchell,” Beau sighed deeply just as the door of the house swung open.

“Shit,” Maverick uttered as he rushed over to the kids, hastily checking over first Pete, then Tom, then Pete again. “Jeez guys, what happened?”

“Ran into some trouble, but I handled it,”   Pete replied with a grin. 

“So he says,” Tom huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“Yes I do say!” Pete snapped, glowering as Tom smirked back at him. 

Sensing a second round of the argument they had just settled, and not being all that interested in sticking around to spectate, Beau spoke up, cutting them both off before they could get the wind in their sails too much. 

“As you can see,” he said, drawing the older man’s attention to him properly for the first time. “Neither of them have suffered irreparable damage.”

He tried not to take the suspicious once-over Maverick gave him personally, he did seem to write-off the possibility of Beau being the culprit fairly quickly. Regardless, seeing his out, Beau simply nodded and took a step back. 

“I’ll leave them with you, Captain,” he said, nodding farewell to both of the boys before turning to leave, only to freeze when Pete reached out and slapped him on the back twice.

“Thanks for the help, Uncle Beau!” he said cheerfully, before nudging Tom and leading the way back into the house. 

Beau arched a brow at the nickname, glanced over to Maverick, and found something beautiful. If he was surprised, Pete Mitchell was well and truly bamboozled.

“Uncle Beau?” the man uttered, brows so high they were practically in his hairline. 

Beau liked to think himself above petty little victories such as this. He liked to think that. But in reality, as it turned out, when one landed in his lap like it just had, his actual response was to shoot Mitchell (who may be a good man but was still an unrepentant pain in the ass) the biggest shit-eating grin he could manage and waggle his fingers in a mocking wave. 

“Uncle Beau,” he confirmed, winking. 

Maverick opened and closed his mouth wordlessly a couple of times, eyes wide with dawning horror.

“...Peeeeeete!!”

‘Oh dear,’ Beau thought to himself as he watched the older man turn and bolt back into the house. ‘He might just like the kid after all’.

Just a silly little scene off of the back of the last post (/chapter?). 

Ice and Saki like to get into staring contests over breakfast (because people tend to underestimate just how competitive Ice has always been just because Mav’s competitiveness is more feral and noticeable - and it turns out Saki isn’t one to blink first). 

She’s a big old snugglebug with Pete and Tom though. 

Just the boys actually behaving like normal teenagers for once (well, perhaps with a dash more danger than most teens go for) and pestering Ice for permission to get motorcycle licences (they assume Mav’s a shoe-in. They are mistaken. He’s by far the more hesitant of the two of them). 

It’s an opportunity for both Ice and Tom to flex their negotiation muscles. By the end of talks they’ve got a written agreement (signed by all parties and witnessed by an utterly bemused Cyclone) outlining that: 

It goes on for about 5 pages. (If the fighter-pilot thing doesn’t work out, Tom’s got a very bright future in law and/or politics it would seem). 

For the longest time now, the only real significance that that day held for him was as a marker of his being one year closer to independence. Living with Mav and Ice, even that didn’t provide the same spiteful satisfaction that it once had. 

These days, he didn’t count down the months until he was free of the people he found himself in the midst of. Quite the opposite really. Ice, Maverick, Tom, the Daggers, the uncles… they were good people. Good, kind, safe people - and they actually seemed to like Pete being around. 

Nothing lasts forever though, of course. He knew that. He was well aware that he was one big screw up away from blemishing whatever image they all had of him, one proper misstep from sending the whole house of cards he’d built around himself from falling to the ground in one way or another. And he was well overdue for one of those mistakes. Unfortunately, it was an inevitability. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Pete Mitchell messes up nice things. 

He tried not to let it bother him too much. 

It was better to just live in the moment, and at this particular moment he had far bigger concerns than inevitabilities or the fact that he was turning 17 in a week. The chief among them - Maverick was turning 60. 

Unlike Pete’s birthday, that was something significant. That was important. That was worthy of celebration. 

Up until this whole time-warp fiasco went down, Pete would have put money on him (any version of him) not making it past 30. 60 was double that! It demanded celebration, even if Mav himself had developed a habit of referring to the subject of his age merely as ‘the situation’.

So when Ice suggested a little lunchtime get-together by the Hard Deck the coming Saturday ‘for the birthday we’ve got coming up’, he agreed that it was a fantastic idea. 

“Penny’s got a barbecue there that we could use I’m pretty sure,” Tom chipped in over his cereal. 

“Nice. I’ll be there if there’s food,” Pete grinned as he made a bowl for himself. 

Tom rolled his eyes. 

“You were going to be there anyway, numb-skull.”

“Boys, please,” Ice sighed, before Pete could return fire. “I’ve not had my coffee yet, let’s just hold off on the bickering for a little while longer.”

Pete sniffed when Tom promptly shot him an exceedingly smug smirk. 

“I’d get drinking if I were you.”

“Pete.”

“Fine,” Pete huffed, before turning back to Ice. “The beach sounds great though. Want us to bring anything?”

“Just yourselves,” Ice replied, shaking his head. “Mav and I will sort out the logistics.”

And that was that. Party at the beach to celebrate Mav’s 60th, be there at 12. Sorted. 

The rest of the week went by like normal, for the most part. He was asked if he was excited about the party a bit more often than he expected he would be, but he figured it was just people making conversation. He and Tom spent most of Thursday trying to find the old man a fitting birthday present. 

“You’ve seen the hanger! How are we supposed to top that?!”

“I think we should probably start by setting our sights a little lower.”

In the end they decided to both go in on a new camera, figuring it was the most affordable of Mav’s hobbies to tap into. 

When the day itself eventually did roll around, Pete was up and out of bed by dawn. Not due to excitement, and not due to any additional birthday gestures like he’d been contemplating (a fry up was always a good start to the day, after all), no - due to Tom. 

“We’re going for a ride and you’re going to enjoy it,” he announced the second Pete woke (with a start, thanks to the other boy dropping his riding jacket and boots on top of him). “Up and at ‘em.” 

“But what about Mav’s-?”

“We’ll see him at the party, I’ve left a note,” Tom announced, grabbing the end of Pete’s quilt and dragging it out of the room with him. “Mush.”

“I hate you!”

“Hate me on the move. There is breakfast with our name on it somewhere.” 

“Ugh!” 

The ride, annoyingly, was fantastic. The roads were mostly clear, and riding with Tom was always a blast. Tom even bought him breakfast and a couple of pastries for after (“It’s your birthday, idiot. Of course I’m shouting”). It was… well, nice. Pete didn’t care about birthdays, he really didn’t, but even still… it was just nice. Sitting at the look out, munching on the food his best friend had bought for him, he found himself feeling genuinely content with life and how it was turning out. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to even imagine that. It was a moment he resolved to savour. 

“You feel any different?” Tom asked, smirking as he dusted the icing sugar from his Pączki off his fingers. 

Pete scoffed at the question, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, nodding seriously. “I feel like I’ve levelled up, you know? Way more mature now. I feel like I’ve really grown as a person.”

“And yet not an inch vertically? Life’s not fair, is it-?”

“Fuck you!”

Tom snickered, ducking out of the way of the hand Pete swung at the back of his head, before holding his own up in surrender. 

“Seriously though, happy birthday,” he said, shooting Pete a warm smile that made his stomach do that fluttering thing he’d noticed it doing more and more often lately. 

Smiling himself and ducking his head, Pete shrugged. 

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s not really a big deal.”

“Well as somebody with a vested interest in your being born, I reckon it is,” Tom retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Pete scoffed, a teasing grin tugging at his lips as he folded his arms over his knees. 

“A vested interest, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Nawww, you do like me,” Pete snickered. 

“You’re letting it get to your head.” 

“Is that why you brought me out here, to confess your undying love?” 

“In. your. dreams,” Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Bringing you out here was my present to both you and Mav.” 

“How is me going to go for a ride and being bought breakfast a present for Maverick? 

“You going for a ride and being bought breakfast means both you and I are here, not at home. Which means Mav and Ice have the whole place to themselves, all morning. And there’s no chance of either of us overhearing anything and being scarred for life.” 

Pete blinked at that, before pulling a face at the thought of Mav’s birthday ride and announcing, utterly serious, “You’re the best friend a guy could ever ask for.”

“I know,” Tom drawled, before shrugging as he tucked the rubbish from his breakfast into his backpack. “And maybe I wanted to get in first with the birthday wishes.” 

“Always a competition with you, isn’t it?” Pete scoffed, ignoring the other boy’s derisive snort as he jumped back to his feet. “Race you back to the Hard Deck!” 

“Absolutely not!” Tom snapped, hurrying to his feet all the same as Pete bounded over to the bikes. “That flies entirely in the face of the contract!” 

“I laugh in the face of the contract!”

“Yes! That’s why it took so long to draft! Pete!” 

They didn’t end up racing back, much to Tom’s relief. As a result, by the time they pulled up, pretty much everybody had arrived at the beach. Bradely, Hangman, and Phoenix were still by the Bronco though, pulling the last of their stuff out the back.

“Ah, the birthday boy has arrived,” Hangman cried as they wandered over.

“Ha ha,” Pete scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning to Rooster. “Hey, can we dump our helmets and stuff in your car?”

“Sure, the back seat should be free,” he replied as he hefted the cooler from the trunk. “But really, happy birthday, Pete.”

“Ah, thanks?” Pete replied, a confused smile tugging at his lips as he stepped out of the way for Tom to stow his stuff away as well. That’s two times today. Weird. 

“What’s with the face?” Phoenix asked, laughing. “17 is a big deal.”

Pete laughed. 

“Yeah right,” he replied, stooping to grab one of the bags from their pile. “16’s supposed to be a big deal, and 18 definitely is. 17’s just there.”

“Agree to disagree. But, that raises a good question,” replied Jake, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “What sort of Sweet 16 fiasco are we competing with today?” 

Pete arched a brow at the question, but figured it made sense. Out of all the milestone birthdays, 16 was the only relevant one he and Mav had an overlap on. Though he wasn’t sure how much “I spent most of it in the ER with a broken arm’ would help with gauging the temperature for how this one was going.

Instead he just shrugged. 

“Nothing really special. I’m sure this’ll be way better.”

“That’s what we’re aiming for,” Jake replied with a grin, ruffling Pete’s hair (and then, far more amusingly, Tom’s), before leading the way over to the sand. 

Pete blinked as they drew closer. A lot of people had turned up. All of the daggers were here, pitching up chairs and umbrellas or tossing a football (actually, two footballs) around while almost all the uncles and even Viper milled about among them. Mav, Ice, Slider, and Penny were getting the barbecue started, chatting with Warlock and Cyclone (which was weird, but probably Ice’s doing). He even spotted Amelia and Theo slip out of the Hard Deck, deep in conversation with Hondo (about something nerdy and interesting no doubt) to join the group. 

“Damn, Mav sure invited a lot of people for someone who pulls faces whenever anybody utters the number 60 around him,” he laughed as he hefted the bag further up his shoulder. “Or are you all gatecrashing just to torment him?”

Jake snorted at that, rolling his eyes. 

“Nah. Though he is being a baby about it, so if we did it would be his own fault,” he replied. 

“He actually ordered us not to mention ‘the situation’ the other day,” Bradley scoffed, shaking his head.

“In fairness, Roo - you and Bagman were having a lot of fun at his expense,” said Phoenix as they all dropped their bags on the sand and set about making camp. She grinned at Pete and Tom. “There have been lots of fossil jokes. These two even smuggled a walker on base and swapped it with his lectern before debrief. He had to walk it to the side of the classroom.”

“Cruel,” Tom snickered from beside him. “Funny, but cruel.”

“You know it,” Jake cackled, dropping his bags down on the sand before stretching his arms over his head. “But nah, he’s opted out of a group celebration. Don’t know why. But I’m afraid that means you’re flying solo today, baby bro.”

Pete blinked again. 

“...I’m what?”

“You’ve got the spotlight pretty much to yourself today,” Bradley replied, shrugging like it was the simplest thing. “Apparently he’s got some day-trip planned with Ice tomorrow, so he’s sorted. That just leaves you with all of the attention. Reckon you can handle that?”

…Shit. 

Shit, shit shit - he had not prepared for this. He’d not expected this. What the hell even was this?! He’s turning 17. Who gives a shit?! Why the hell would all of these people come out here, some of them a hell of a long way, just for him?! They wouldn’t. Had they not been told it was just for him? Did Mav wriggle out of this at the last second and now he had 20+ people who’d pretty much written off half their weekend for no reason on his hands? 

“Pete, you alright?” Tom asked, shaking his shoulder, a worried expression on his face. 

Pete grimaced, before glancing around at the others and finding them all looking at him with concern. 

He pulled on a wide grin and laughed. 

“Me? Yeah, of course!” he replied cheerily, mind racing all the while. He needed a minute to himself. To come up with a plan. To fix this. 

Quickly turning back to the others, slapping his forehead as he did, he said, “You know what? I think I left my phone on my bike. Just gonna go grab that, can’t lose another one. Are you guys good here for a sec?”

“I mean, yeah,” Tom said slowly, frowning. 

“Great!” Pete cheered (perhaps a bit too overzealously, but whatever) before spinning around and, with a quick “Back in a moment!” taking off back up the beach. 

Right, step one, calm the hell down. He had to get a hold of himself and he had to do it now. 

Alright, it was a surprise. Alright, there were probably going to be some irritated people down there. So what? He could deal with irritated people. He could deal with people that actively wanted to kick his ass, irritated is nothing. Why the hell was he freaking out so much? Less than a year of being treated nicely and he’d gone completely soft, seriously?

He shook his head roughly. 

He was fine. This was fine. He’d make it work somehow. He just needed to stop acting like a baby and come up with a plan of action. 

He could direct attention back to Maverick. The old man can try and wriggle out of it all he likes but two can play this game. He’ll stick around for an hour, direct as much attention to Mav as possible, whip Jake and Bradely up into enough of a frenzy to keep the momentum going and then make a classy exit. Nobody will even remember he was here and they’ll forget all about this misunderstanding. That’s good. That’ll work. 

…Unless Mav launches a counter-attack. Which he would. 

Shit!

“Pete?” 

Pete whirled around and found Mav and Ice approaching, both looking concerned and not all that surprised to see him up here. Goddamnit, Tom, the snitch!!

“What’s going on, kiddo?” Mav asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I mean, that’s a pretty good question man,” Pete replied, running a hand through his hair anxiously as he glanced down at the beach once more before turning his attention (and frustration) back to the older man. “I get that you’ve got some sort of three quarter life crisis going on about turning 60, but seriously, throwing me under the bus so you can avoid that is a dick move.” 

Mav, the bastard, looked more confused than chastened at the rebuke, exchanging a bemused glance with Ice. 

“You’re going to have to spell this one out for us, buddy.”

Pete groaned, folding his hands on top of his head. 

“First, explain it to me, guys,” he replied. “What was the plan? Trick everyone here by saying it’s a party for Mav and then hope people aren’t too put out when it turns out it was for the other Mitchell? Jeez guys, I mean, what the hell? Why the hell?! Nobody gives a damn it’s my birthday. I don’t give a damn it’s my birthday. Now it looks like I do, and now I get to look like the stupid little moron who needed people tricked here to pad things out!”

“Pete,” Ice said slowly, holding his hands out like he was trying to calm down some wounded animal. Like Pete was being irrational about this. “You do know this party is for you, right?”

“Yes,” Pete replied with every ounce of patience he possessed. “I’m aware of that. That’s exactly my point”

“No. He means it was always intended to be just for you,” Mav weighed in. 

Pete sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his very best to channel Ice and remain as diplomatic as he possibly could (it did not help, mind you, that Ice was joining in on this nonsense. But he tried nevertheless). 

“Look,” he said with forced calm, “I see what you’re trying to do, and it’s a nice thought. I appreciate that you guys care and want to make a fuss, I do. But you can’t just expect to trick people into writing off half their weekend for one thing, and then bait and switch with a discount offer at the last second. Wood and Wolf flew in from Texas for this, guys. Please. I’ll see if I can get the Daggers to lay off the fossil jokes, but- …what’s this?”

“Read it,” Ice replied, holding his phone out to Pete until he took it and did as he was told. 

Pete blinked, utterly mystified, as he scrolled through the group chat (which seemed to go on for quite a bit) before eventually turning back to Ice and Mav. 

“I… I don’t understand,” he uttered. 

“Join the club, kiddo,” Mav replied, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You helped plan this,” Ice pointed out, a baffled expression on his ordinarily nonplussed face. “I specifically asked you if you would like a party at the Hard Deck?” 

“I thought you were asking for my input for Mav’s party,” Pete muttered, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he realised just how stupid he apparently was. 

“The daggers have been talking to you about it all week?” Mav pointed out, equally confused. “Bob asked you what snacks you’d like him to bring.” 

“I thought they were coming to me because they couldn’t get anything out of you!” Pete snapped back hotly. 

Ice held up a hand, cutting that line of conversation off before it could get too heated. Taking a deep, exceedingly put upon breath, he sighed “Once again, it appears that this family’s outstanding communication skills have come back to bite us all in the ass.”

He turned back to Pete.  

“If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t meant to be a surprise party,” he said.

Pete scoffed softly, in spite of himself, but soon enough the begrudging amusement gave way to confusion once more. 

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Why would all of them come out if they knew it was just for me?” 

“How’s it any different from them coming out for me?” Maverick asked with a frown.

Pete shrugged. 

“They’re your family,” he replied simply. “They’re supposed to show up for you.” 

“They’re your family too,” Maverick argued, his frown deepening. 

“You do know that, don’t you?” Ice said slowly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Yeah. Course,” Pete muttered, cutting a quick glance to the group in question. Nobody seemed to have noticed they were gone yet, thank goodness. Somehow Pete felt like he’d find himself even more outnumbered if they did. He had to bury this quick though, if he wanted to avoid that fate. 

Unfortunately, when he turned back to the oldtimers, Ice had his signature ‘so you’re just going to lie to my face now?’ expression in place. Never a good sign. Also almost never directed at Pete he realised with a dull pain. 

“You know, you pull that face every time this topic of conversation comes up.”

“What face?” 

“The ‘well if it makes them happy’ face,” Ice replied, folding his arms over his chest. “Be honest with us, Pete. What’s going on here?”

Pete shrunk back a little at that, feeling very much under a spotlight all of a sudden and not entirely sure why. 

“N-nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

“Well clearly something is. And just to be clear, do you honestly believe that we’d have all been fine throwing a party for Maverick and doing absolutely nothing for you?” the older man asked, arching a brow pointedly. 

“I… I mean… I… I’d get it,” Pete stuttered, heart pounding in his chest. What the hell was going on? What did he even do? He took a step back, giving into the instinct to at least be out of arm's length, only to knock into the back of Ice’s Jeep when he tried. Crap. He was trapped. And he was in trouble. And he didn’t know why. 

His alarm must have shown on his face too, because soon enough Ice was taking a step back himself, hands held up disarmingly. 

“Pete, I’m not angry with you,” he said, calmly and far gentler than before. “I’m sorry.”

Pete swallowed thickly, but nodded all the same as he tried to rein himself in, to calm down for goodness sake. He was being so damn stupid!!

“I just don’t understand,” Ice continued. “You know everybody here loves you, don’t you? We haven’t dropped the ball that much I hope.” 

Embarrassment and shame twisted sickeningly in the pit of Pete’s belly. Because he did know that. He knew how hard everybody had tried to make him and Tom feel welcome. And not just as novelty extensions of Mav and Ice either, but as their own, separate people. They’d all tried so hard to bring them into the family and make them feel like they belonged in it, Pete knew it. He saw it each day. For the most time, he felt it too, but there was just this part of him that wouldn’t allow him to accept it fully. Wouldn’t allow him to trust it. To trust them. 

“I’m sorry,” he uttered weakly, staring down at the tips of his boots. “I… I know it doesn’t make sense. It’s not anything you guys have done, or haven’t done. I know how much you’ve all tried to be welcoming. And you have, truly. I love it here… so much. But… but every time I try to… it’s just in the back of my mind I’m always… I…” 

He flinched sharply when something touched his arm, but it was just Ice reaching out to him. All of a sudden, that contact, that offer of reassurance was all he wanted. Sighing heavily he stepped forward and leaned against the old man’s chest, dragging in a deep, calming breath as Ice’s arms wrapped around him, squeezed him in a tight. 

“I love it here,” he uttered. “And everybody here… and I know they- you all care - about me and Tom. But I just know…” 

He sighed deeply. 

“It’s just… self-preservation, I guess. I know it’s going to really hurt, so much, when I mess up.  I didn’t care, when it was just some other home I was stuck in longer than usual, but now… now it’s probably too late already. When I mess up and have to go-”

“Hey, who said anything about you going anywhere,” Ice said with a frown, holding him closer. “We told you, you have a place in this family for life. Nothing will change that.”

Pete sighed sadly, shaking his head where it was pressed to Ice’s sternum. They didn’t get it. They felt that way now, but it wouldn’t last. 

“No matter how hard you try, you’re going to end up alone.” 

Both Pete and Ice froze at that, before turning to face Maverick, who looked all the world like he’d just commented on the weather rather than putting one of Pete’s deepest, most painful fears to words. And he wasn’t done. 

“We’re going realise just how messed up you really are. How much damage has been done. How much of it can’t be undone. And, most importantly, how much of it you probably deserved. And sooner or later we’ll change our mind about you. It’s all well and good to say we’ll always want you in the family if we haven’t seen the full picture yet, because let’s face it, you’re on the good behaviour streak of a lifetime right now. But sooner or later, you’re going to mess up, because that’s what you do. And then we’ll see the real you. The screw up. The waste of space. The guy everybody else can see clearly. Eventually the rose-coloured glasses will come off and  we’ll really see you for what you are. We’ll get tired of trying to bring somebody into a family who doesn’t deserve to be in it and clearly is meant to be on their own. It’ll be better for everyone to just stop trying. We probably won’t kick you out, to be fair - but when you head off to college or the academy… the calls and emails will peter out. Tom will probably find his own people too, when he’s got other options. He’ll stop spending time with you too. It’ll probably be pretty amicable really. But everybody will just go on with their life and there will be no room for you in them. That will be that. Better to just accept it now, try not to get too attached to how things are, so when it happens, at least you won’t look like you were blindsided by it all. It’s a bit less pathetic if you at least saw it coming.” 

Pete’s stomach sunk so fast through the blacktop it felt like he was pulling negative G’s. Mav knew. Mav saw how this was going to play out just as clearly as he did. The first card in his little house was beginning to wobble. 

To his horror he felt his face beginning to heat up and his eyes beginning to sting. He dragged in a deep, shuddering breath, squeezing them shut tight. He wasn’t a baby. This wasn’t a surprise. He wasn’t going to start crying in the middle of the car park where everybody could see him like some child. 

He jumped as an arm wrapped around his shoulders and looked up to find Ice, holding him close again, and leading them to the space between his jeep and Bradley’s Bronco - more or less out of sight from the rest of the group.

“Sit down and take a few deep breaths for me, kiddo,” he murmured, manoeuvring Pete until he was sitting down on the gravel, back pressed against the rubber of the Bronco’s tyre. Biting his lip, he folded his arms tight over his chest, knees drawing up as Ice kneeled down beside him and wrapped an arm back around his shoulders, rubbing up and down his arm soothingly all the while.. “In and out. Just like that. What the hell, Mav?” 

“Just trying to work out what we’re dealing with here,” Maverick replied, sounding tired and sad now. “Pete, can you look at me?”

Pete really didn’t want to. This was all humiliating and painful enough without risking bursting into tears the second he made eye contact with the old man as well. But, at the same time, this was the reality of the situation, and closing his eyes and hiding from it wasn’t going to change anything either, except to make him look even more childish. So whether he wanted to or not, he didn’t have much of a choice. 

Clenching his jaw tight and breathing in deeply through his nose, he (as resolutely as he could manage) lifted his head and met Mav’s eye. He wasn’t expecting to be met with a sympathetic expression. How could Mav see him so clearly, and still look at him like that. 

“Does that about sum it up?” the old man asked, cocking his head to the side. “What’s going on in that head of yours.”

Scrubbing roughly at his face, Pete nodded his head. 

“M-more or less.” 

Mav hummed thoughtfully, pausing a moment, before smiling and sitting down properly across from them. 

“You know,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “The first time I met Carole, she scared that absolute crap out of me.” 

Pete blinked, confused at the strange turn their conversation had taken, but interested all the same. Mav wasn’t shy with talking about Goose or Carole, but he’d never heard that. 

A fond smile tugged at the edges of the old man’s mouth as he looked up wistfully at the sky. 

“People underestimated her. She was so loud and joyous all the time, most people figured she was probably a bit dim. But they had no idea. Sure she was smart enough, but her real strength was with people. She had this way of looking at a person, just looking at them, and seeing past all the bullshit.”

He shook his head. 

“The first shore leave after Goose and I became a team, Goose insisted that I come home with him. He hadn’t realised until we were literally docking that I didn’t have anywhere to go, so the second he put the pieces together it was, ‘Come on, you have to, Mav! It’ll be great. You can meet Carole. You guys will get on like a house on fire, I know it’. And I, for the life of me, couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to convince him otherwise. I think I was a bit blindsided that he was offering to spend more time together at all.” 

He scoffed. 

“Either way, the pressure was dialled up to 11,” he drawled. “Not only would I have to stay on my best behaviour for even longer, to keep Goose on side - and I’d been on a 6 month streak at that point and felt the end looming. But I also had to become best friends with his wife, immediately. Otherwise he’d wonder how he got that one so wrong. Then he’d look closer, and he’d see everything he’d somehow missed about me before. See exactly where I was lacking. Me getting to keep the one person in the navy, hell, the one person in the world that gave a damn about me - depended on this month going well.”

Rubbing at his scratchy eyes, Pete leaned a little more into Ice’s side, before asking. “You managed to pull that off?”

“Hell no, I lasted less than a week,” Mav scoffed, shaking his head. “And it only lasted that long because Goose and Carole had the patience of saints.”

Pete frowned. That didn’t make sense. He might not know this story but he knew a hell of a lot of the others that came later. He knew Mav stayed friends with Goose, and Carole as well, for years after when this would have happened. How could it not have worked? How did he screw up that badly and still manage to keep them around? 

He shot Ice a confused glance, receiving a ‘just roll with it’ shrug in response. 

“Carole was living in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere Texas at the time. Her aunt needed help moving or something. Unfortunately that meant I had had about six hours of travelling to work myself up and come up with a game plan for how I was going to make it all work. Going in with a charm offensive wouldn’t have done it, Goose would feel like making moves on his wife, Carole would feel like I was a creep, and I’d be stuck with both of them feeling like that for a month. I couldn’t risk being myself, for reasons already discussed. So I decided on the red carpet treatment. From the second I got out of Goose’s truck to the second we got back in it to head back to the airport, Carole Bradshaw would be shown a level of respect and deference that no admiral had or has ever received from me. The queen of England could have come around and found it excessive. But it was the best I had.

“I addressed her as ma’am, I stood when she walked into the room or got up from the table, I tried to help out around the house as much as I possibly could. A big part of the plan was also trying to give her and Goose as much space and time to themselves as possible. I wasn’t supposed to be there, and the absolute last thing I wanted is for them to miss out on time together because Goose felt obliged to bring me along with him. On paper, I thought it worked. Be respectful and stay out of the way. Unfortunately, in practice it went more along the lines of me actively avoiding everybody like it was my job and, whenever I couldn’t, making the situation so awkward it was uncomfortable for everybody. And it was uncomfortable. My god. Goose and Carole, they tried so hard to get me to relax, come out of my shell, do the exact opposite of what I was trying to do essentially. It was not going well,” Mav laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head at the memory. 

“Goose knew I was acting off, which was putting me even more on edge. And I knew I was quickly moving past that ‘meeting new people is awkward sometimes’ grace period straight into ‘this little twerp I’ve known for a few months has got a problem with the love of my life’ territory. So not ideal. And Carol… Carol knew from the beginning that I was putting up a front, which made settling around her pretty much impossible.”

Pete grimaced sympathetically at the thought of it all. 

“At least you stuck it out,” he muttered. “I would have just left at that point.”

“Oh, I did,” Mav replied without missing a beat. “About five days in everything finally bubbled over. Goose tried to coax me into telling him what was wrong for about the millionth time and… well, after days of constantly being on red alert, barely sleeping from the stress, just second guessing every single move or sound I made while knowing, in spite of trying my best, it was all going to hell - I sort of lost it on him. Told him he could take whatever friendship he thought we had and shove it where the sun don’t shine because I sure as hell didn’t need it or him. That I'd been on my own for over half my life and I didn’t need anybody, thank you very much, least of all some hapless, sheltered country-boy who clearly didn’t know what was good for him if it smacked him in the face. Then I grabbed my bag and went straight to the train station.”

Pete blinked owlishly at that, confused to say the least. 

“But I thought Goose was your best friend,” he said. 

“He was,” Mav replied. 

“Even after that?!” 

“I know, I was surprised too.” 

Pete frowned, puzzling it over as Mav laughed softly and shook his head.. 

“This being the tiny town it was, the train didn’t run very often, and I’d missed the one for that day - which was just the cherry on the top really. I figured I’d just spend the night on the platform. Didn’t want to risk missing the next one, and I was feeling pretty sorry for myself at the time so it seemed fitting. Which was exactly where Carole found me three hours later.”

Ice scoffed softly beside Pete, shaking his head with a fond smile of his own. 

“Mother Goose sent in the big guns then,” he drawled. 

“I honestly have no idea if Goose even knew,” Mav replied, smiling reminiscently himself. “I think she just figured she’d given us both enough time to sulk and decided enough was enough.” 

He chuckled, tilting his head back as he recalled the encounter. 

“She came over and sat down on the ground beside me,” he said, looking around them, the corner of his lips twitching a fraction higher. “Sorta like we are right now.”

Pete smiled weakly at that. 

“She sat with me for the longest time, didn’t say a word, just waited me out, until she could tell I was ready to actually listen to her. Then she took my hand and said, “You know what, honey? If you were half as rotten as you’re afraid you are, you wouldn’t care nearly as much as you do”.”

Pete ducked his head as, all at once, tears started welling up once again. God he wanted that to be true. With every fibre of his being he did. He bit his lip as he felt Ice pull him a little tighter against his side, and heard Mav scoot closer himself, reaching out and rubbing his arm himself. 

“Do you think she was right about that,” he uttered, voice crackling with the strain of keeping himself together. 

Mav smiled, squeezing Pete’s arm gently as he inclined his head. 

“Honestly, I always had my doubts,” he confessed. “But these days… I think she probably was.” 

Before he could stop them, a couple of the tears Pete had been battling against broke free and rolled down his cheeks. 

“Oh, buddy,” Mav sighed, reaching up to rub the moisture away. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes I forget how much all of that stuff hurt.” 

Pete leaned into the contact, the corner of his mouth twitching a little as he did so.

“Actually pretty good to hear that from my perspective,” he murmured, drawing soft scoffs from the oldtimers. 

Shaking his head fondly, Mav patted Pete’s arm one last time before folding them over his crossed legs. 

“I’m telling you this for two reasons,” he said, ducking his head to meet Pete’s eye once again. “First, and I really am sorry for this but, unfortunately, this is just one of those cards that you and I got dealt. This is something that you were always going to have to work through. Being on your own for so long, and getting told so many times and in so many ways that nobody wants you, and nobody will ever want you - it leaves a mark. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It's just a hurdle that we get that some people don’t. Everyone’s got their own set. For us - it’s being very, very aware of just how much other people can hurt you, while at the same time knowing how much the alternative hurts too.”

Pete sighed softly, but nodded all the same. That point wasn’t exactly news to him, but it still sucked hearing it all the same. 

“And second,” Mav said, reaching out and brushing Pete’s hair back from his face with a small, reassuring smile. “Even though it doesn’t always feel like it, and that feeling will flare up from time to time unfortunately, some people really do stay.”

Pete lifted his head to look at the old man properly, something like hope fluttering weakly in the pit of his belly. 

“They stick by you as long as they possibly can, through more crap than you could possibly imagine. I know it’s hard to really let yourself believe that right now. I know it feels like the second you do it’ll all fall apart around you, like a house of cards. But that will fade with time and with evidence. You’re just going to have to trust me until then. You’re not meant to be alone. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong or bad about you. The people who are worth a damn, they stay - you just have to let them in in the first place.”

The older man leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Just be careful, because once you do, it’s all bets off. I had one moment of weakness around Slider 36 years ago and now I’m stuck with him.” 

Pete laughed wetly at that, smiling back as Mav practically beamed at him. 

“I hope you’re right,” he uttered, rubbing again at his face. 

“I am,” Mav replied, nodding firmly. “And look, I’m not going to lie to you and promise forever. Nobody knows what’s around the corner. Hell, a tsunami could take us all out right now.” 

Pete scoffed softly, rolling his eyes as Maverick ruffled his hair teasingly. 

“But the stuff you’re worried about, the mistakes you’re worried about making, I’m sorry but they’re just not gonna cut it.” 

Ice nodded at that. 

“Unfortunately, to shake us at this point you’d have to do things that you’re simply not capable of. And they certainly wouldn’t be accidental.” 

Pete frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. 

“...Could you give me a clue?” he asked. “You know, to be safe.”

Ice scoffed softly, before cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

“Alright. We’re talking about doing things that would deliberately traumatise others. Not accidents, like a car crash or getting in a really bad fight, though we’d all rather you avoided that too. Stuff that’s just evil. Things specifically done to make somebody else feel afraid or humiliated or less than” Ice replied calmly, brow rising pointedly. “Do you feel that avoiding that sort of behaviour would be a struggle for you?”

“Fuck, no,” Pete replied, nose wrinkling at the thought of doing anything along those lines.

Ice  nodded. 

“There you go. There’s the bar,” he replied simply. “Anything above that? Worst case scenario, you’re the pain in the ass of the week. And that’s a title we’ve all held at one point or another.”

“Even you?”

“Unjustly,” he sniffed. 

“Ask Uncle Sli about it some time,” Mav replied without missing a beat, before turning back to Pete before Ice could retort. “Honestly kiddo, do you really think Bradely was an angel growing up?” 

“Well… yeah?”

“Think again,” Ice drawled. 

Mav hummed, nodding seriously. 

“Off the top of my head, there was that time he threw a party with his baseball team while we were out of town and trashed the house.”

“The bike he borrowed without asking, rode unlicensed, and totalled - on a dare.” 

“The kitchen he nearly burned down because ‘guys - you can’t pause online games, how many times do I have to tell you?’ and ‘I want bacon’ turned out to be a bad mix.”

“The spy-phase that ended with him trying to sneak onto a military base, ours that is, and then refusing to answer any questions or co-operate after getting caught.” 

“I maintain that that was mostly Hollywood’s fault for taking him to watch True Lies.” 

Pete blinked, stunned by the antics of, by far, one of the more mature ‘big brothers’ he had. 

Ice scoffed, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. 

“And we still love the kid. Did back then when it happened and through much less amusing run-ins too,” he said, before squeezing Pete a little tighter to his side. “So try not to worry so much. You’re a kid, you’re supposed to do stupid things. Mav does stupid things every other day and we still keep him around. And that’s these days. He was an absolute menace when I first met him. And six years older than you are now. You’re a dream in comparison.”

Mav huffed. 

“You are a delight,” he said, patting Pete on the shoulder, before shooting his husband a pointed look. “But I think some people are forgetting which one of us introduced himself by immediately talking shit.”

“We were competing and the fact that you still bring it up almost 40 years later just further emphasises what a sound psychological victory that introduction was for me.”

“I mean I wanted to kick your ass all the more afterwards, so I’m not sure how much of a victory it was.”

“Well you never did, so a big one I would say.”

“Bullshit I never did-!”

“Go-ddddddd,” Pete groaned, though he couldn’t help but grin at the bickering, which, in the span of 10 months, had somehow become the comforting soundtrack of home for him (which probably said a lot about Ice and Maverick, but who cares). “Wher’es Tom when you need him?”

“Our point,” Ice said pointedly, shooting Mav a look that said quite clearly ‘we’re supposed to be a united front, genius (also, you know I’m right), “Is that you’re going to make mistakes. Everybody does. You’re going to do stupid things, things that we don’t approve of. And, because we’re here to help you become the best person you can be, we’ll call you out on it. At one point or another, we’ll disagree, we’ll argue, feelings will probably get hurt, egos will get bruised. And then, we’re going to be here anyway. Because you’re a member of this family and that’s not going to change.” 

“And we’ll remind you of that however many times you need,” Mav replied, smiling warmly at him, before slapping his own knees and leaning back. “Now, how would you like to proceed from here? Are you alright breaking the Birthday Drought today or would you like to go home and we can just have a nice family dinner tonight. Which would you rather?”

Pete bit his lip, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I guess I… I wouldn’t mind staying,” he replied, his heart and stomach fluttering again at the thought of all these people, his family, turning up just for him. But this time, he found his emotions leaning more on the side of nervous excitement rather than all-consuming dread. “I mean, It’s been a minute.” 

“You’re sure?” Ice asked seriously, rubbing Pete’s back reassuringly. “Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to.” 

Pete ducked his head, a small smile spreading across his face as, for the first time since this whole miscommunication came to light, and before that really, something seemed to settle inside of him. Some knot of tension that had been there for so long that he’d just learned to live with it, seemed to ease just the littlest bit. He did not doubt, for a second, that if he decided to leave now, Ice and Mav (and Tom) would cover for him, would back him up and stand in his corner. Whether they needed to or not, and Pete suspected things would probably topple in the direction of ‘not’ because the others would understand.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath (like Ice had been teaching him) he lifted his head a smiled a little wide. 

“I want to,” he said. “Seriously, if I ever say no to chocolate cake I want you to assume that somebody’s stolen my face and is impersonating me.” 

“Mark that down for both of us,” Mav replied, nodding empathetically. 

“Noted,” Ice scoffed, smiling as the three of them got back to their feet. “In that case, we should probably get back. Tom said he’d try to keep them all in one place to give us a moment alone but the fact that he seems to have managed it is making me nervous.” 

Pete snickered as Mav shot him an amused grin, before they both followed Ice back to the beach. It turned out the old man may have been right to worry. 

“In my defence,” Tom drawled as he jogged over to meet them. “I didn’t expect them all to lose their minds.” 

Pete felt like that was a pretty accurate description for the mayhem they’d just walked into. Almost all the daggers and a few of the flyboys were shouting, waving their arms about, jabbing fingers in faces or, in Fanboy’s case, cackling rather manically. And those that weren’t seemed content to either enjoy the show or stoke the fires all the more. It was pandemonium. 

“What did you do?” Ice sighed as they drew closer. 

Tom shrugged. 

“I casually mentioned that Pete and I watched Die Hard for the first time, and asked what other Christmas movies we should watch. And, well...” 

“IT’S SET ON CHRISTMAS EVE, BAGMAN!!! HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS DO YOU NEED IT?!” 

“THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT! IT’S AN ACTION MOVIE-”

“ON CHRISTMAS EVE!” 

“OH MY GOD! SO WHAT?! SO WHAT?!!” 

“Well, it did distract them,” Ice replied, arching a brow as he took it all in. “They’re going to go full Lord of the Flies any moment now, but it worked.” 

Tom grinned, before slinging an arm around Pete’s shoulders and drawling, “Wanna make it worse?”

“You’ve been a terrible influence on him,” Ice sighed, shooting Mav a despairing glance as Pete laughed softly and shrugged. 

“Sure.”

Tom winked before calling over the noise, “Alright, maybe Die Hard can go one way or the other-”

“NO IT CAN’T,” Jake and Nat hollered in unison, before immediately shooting each other disgusted glares. 

“But surely we can all agree that Nightmare before Christmas-” 

And they were off again, with renewed vigour and with previous alliances suddenly shattered. 

Pete laughed as he took it all in. Tom’s arm around his shoulders; Mav and Ice squeezing his arm and ruffling his hair respectively as they walked by to try and reign in the chaos; Rooster and Hangman each elbowing their way through the crowd, hollering for him to back them up. 

The fears were still there, bubbling away beneath the surface. Pete felt that they probably always would. Allowing himself to stay this attached, to actually believe that maybe this time, just this once, things truly would turn out different… it was risky. Frankly it was downright dangerous. 

“Right, enough of this!!” Rooster hollered over the noise. “Let’s settle this properly.” 

“Agreed,” Jake replied, nodding firmly. “Dogfight football. I bags the babies.” 

“What?!” 

“You can’t take both of them!”

“Can. Did. Pete, Tom, come on.” 

Sometimes, the risks were worth taking. And, well, he’d always liked to think he was a little dangerous.